


Turning Point

by coolster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Artist Dean, F/M, Hipster Castiel, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:00:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolster/pseuds/coolster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was just looking for a room mate & Dean was searching for a place to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

The dirty laundry on the floor was blurry. Dean rubbed at his face, hand scraping over the cactus fuzz on his jaw. Sleep had not treated Dean kindly. Purple was bruising under his eyes already and there were pillow creases on his cheekbones. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the warmth of the pillow, not minding how his legs were tangling with the comforter.

            The sound of someone hitting his door pulled Dean from his post-sleep haze. Nearly pushed him onto the floor, startled by the sudden noise.

            “What?” Dean said, overly gruff and muffled by his pillow.

            Clothes blocked the door as it creaked open. “And you wonder why I’m kicking you out.”

            Dean turned over at the snide comment. “I said what, Gabriel.”

            “You did. Twice. Congrats.” Gabe leaned against the door frame and surveyed the room with a wrinkle on his lip. “Really, what do you call this? Hoarders-chic?”

            “Gabe, I swear if you don’t tell me what the hell you want, I’m not moving out.”

            A laugh now. “That’s just it. You need to be out today. Speaking of, didn’t you have an interview with someone across town right about now?”

            Whatever trace of exhaustion Dean had, had dissipated at that sentence. He scrambled up, trying to find his phone in his bed sheets. Cussing under his breath as Gabe cracked up in the doorway. Finally he felt the cool of the screen on his palm and held it to his face. 10:45. Shit.

            Dean nearly fell out of the bed again trying to unravel the hoard of blankets from around his legs. The heat he had built up in sleep escaped with him. He fumbled out of bed, taking wide steps as soon as his feet hit the floor.

            “Shut your face.” Dean muttered as he brushed past a snorting Gabriel.

             One cup of cold coffee later and Dean was back in his room. Clothes were everywhere and they didn’t smell daisy fresh. He stood in the middle of the nightmare in a pair of semi-clean jeans and work boots. The clock that lay dejected in a pile of dirty socks (forgot to hang it up) said it was 10:57. Double shit. Dean grabbed the nearest flannel and started out. Hopefully his prospective roommate didn’t subscribe to the whole “cleanliness is next to godliness” thing.

**

            His keys were digging into his hands as he made his way into the small entrance. Dean couldn’t even pretend that the Milton Apartment Complex wasn’t ten times nicer than Gabe’s building.No flickering light bulbs or shady dudes in bathrobes hanging around by the elevators. Dean rocked on his heels waiting for an answer.

            “Hello?” The speaker crackled.

            “Uh hey. You lookin’ for a roommate?” Dean said.

            “Yeah, come on up.”

            Obnoxious buzz and the sound of a door unlocking. Dean spent the entire elevator ride silently praying the dude wasn’t time oriented or into chore charts. Though, anything was a step up from shaving cream in his shoes and waking up to find his hand in warm water. Thinking about it, it was probably a good thing Gabe was kicking him out.

            There was a knot behind his chest as he stepped out of the elevator. This shadow man was the chalk thin line between Dean and a one way ticket to Palo Alto, last stop being his brother’s couch.

            Apartment 41 had paint flecks surrounding the numbers. The white dust landed on Dean’s knuckles as he knocked. The door frame seemed to shake when it was pulled open from the other si-

            Shit.

            The guy had the most spectacular cheekbones Dean had seen in his life. Hair looked about as disheveled as Dean felt and his lips were as pink as the blush of the women on the subway when Dean had been buttoning up his shirt.

            “Hey,” his voice was like actual gravel, “Are you Dean?”

            Couldn’t help wetting his lips before meeting the guy’s gaze. “Uh, yeah.”

            Nod of the head that said ‘follow me’ had Dean nearly tripping into the apartment. Didn’t even notice the tremble of the door when it slammed shut. Another chin gesture at the couch, Dean under the silent command of a guy whose name seemed confidential.

            “I’m Castiel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter due to eagerness to get this thing posted. Edit & add art later.


End file.
